


Crawl Home to You

by blingblingis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12784275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blingblingis/pseuds/blingblingis
Summary: Jack thinks you're dead. When you come back home to him, how will your stoic commander react?





	Crawl Home to You

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my imagines blog [here!](https://moreheroimagines.tumblr.com/)

When Ana tells him the news he laughs. There’s literally no way you’re dead. No way.He trained you himself and he knows he’s a damn good teacher. You can’t be dead. You can’t be.

But then you don’t come back. One day. Two, and the laughter starts to ring hollow in his ears. He tells Ana it isn’t funny anymore and asks where you are. And she gives him this look that she means sympathetically but all he sees is pity. And he hates it.

You’re dead. Gone and there’s nothing he can do to bring you back. He should be used to casualties by now, it’s a part of every soldier’s life whether they like it or not. But it’s you. With your bright smiles and all too eager salutes. You hadn’t seen the worst the world had to offer yet, and he wanted to shelter you from that for as long as he could. He wanted to protect you. And he failed.

He breaks down in front of his two best friends. Gabriel and Ana try their best to console him but their voices sound like white noise, like a thousand wasps buzzing inside his head. Neither of them can help him get his breathing under control, and black spots start to encroach on his vision, and the last thing he remembers is saying your name.

After that he pretends to be alright in front of the other agents and even in front of Gabe and Ana, even if they can still see he’s not okay, neither of them bring it up, letting him grieve on his own. He doesn’t sleep, keeps working like a zombie at his desk, doing paperwork. Then he checks in on the new recruits, stops by the training hall, says hello to those he passes with a smile anyone can see is fake. He grabs lunch and lets it go cold and uneaten. Rinse and repeat for five more days.

His friends are about to corner him and get him to talk, to sleep or eat or something. But before they can put their plan into action a miracle happens. You come stumbling back into base, covered in dirt and bruises. When you pass by Ana and Gabe on your way to find your Commander they stare at you with wide eyes. You look dead on your feet. But not dead and that’s what’s important.You don’t even acknowledge their presences, just shuffle by them, eyes staring determinedly ahead as you near Jack’s office.

When the door creaks open he already has an excuse and a platitude on his tongue, but they both die the moment he sees you. Your hair is matted with blood, your clothes torn and the way you’re breathing makes him think you might’ve broken a rib. He makes these assessments even as he scrambles up and out of his chair, rounding the desk to meet you halfway as you stumble, knees quaking, into his arms.

Being back where you’re supposed to be seems to breathe more life into you. You blink away the sting in your eyes and give a tired smirk, “Reporting for duty, sir.” you mumble, leaning almost your entire body weight on him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He laughs, and it sounds strangled and wet, “You’re late, soldier.” he teases, his lips pressing against the crown of your head.

You pull away from him and try for a beaming smile only to notice the bags under his eyes. “You look like hell, Jack.” you scold with a frown, thumbs sweeping away the tears under his lashes.

You’re met with a snort and a roll of his blue eyes, “You looked in the mirror lately?” he shoots back. 

You feel your lips quirk at the corners, “Actually, no, I haven’t looked in a mirror lately. I’ve been a little busy trying to get back home to you.” 

His eyes soften at that as he squeezes you lightly, pressing his forehead to yours. The peace only lasts a moment before he pulls away, inhaling deeply and you already know that this is no longer Jack, it’s Commander Morrison. “Get to the infirmary. Have Ziegler look you over.” You nod, tiredly, repressing sigh. “And don’t bother reporting in for the next few days.” he says harshly, though you both know he means it in the opposite sense.

“Yes, Commander.” you say, with a hint of exasperation, but he lets it go, passing it off as exhaustion. 

Once you’re gone Jack flops down into his chair, dragging his hands down his face and begins to laugh hysterically. Gabriel and Ana pop their heads into his office and watch him with half-amused and half-worried expressions. When Jack’s laughter has calmed Gabe looks directly at Ana and says “Told you he’d lose it when he saw. You owe me twenty bucks.” Gabe smirks and Ana rolls her eyes, but Jack pays neither of them any mind. You’re back. You’re safe, the rest of the world could just melt away for all he cared right now.

Jack comes to visit you in the infirmary where Dr. Ziegler is keeping you overnight for observation. You have two broken ribs and a probable concussion so someone has to monitor you. The Strike Commander volunteers. “Isn’t this considered favoritism?” you ask with a quirk of an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes and leans over you, pressing you back into the uncomfortable hospital bed. “I can show you favoritism if you want.” he smirks, enjoying the flush painting your cheeks. He laughs and steals a kiss from you while you are still stunned, then sits in the chair beside your bed.

You glare at him. More in embarrassment than actual anger. Suddenly you remember something and you bite your lip as you look away from him. “Jack...I almost died.” you murmur, so quietly he could’ve easily missed it.

He’s quiet for so long that you start to think he really didn’t hear you. “Yeah.” is all he says, staring down at his hands with a furrowed brow. 

“I’m so sorry.” his head snaps up. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, I swear I was fighting the whole time to get back to you, I just--” he hops up and steals the rest of the words from your lips. You’re glad for it, as you might have started crying if you had kept rambling. 

You melt into him, gripping the front of his shirt to keep him close. When he pulls away he only breathes two words. “Marry me.” It’s a question phrased like a command. A command from the Commander. One you’re all too happy to follow.

A smile tugs at your lips and you say what any good soldier would say to a command from their commanding officer, “Yes, sir.”


End file.
